The Prime Minister's daughter
by Allemande
Summary: Sequel to The Prime Minister's greatest shock. Poor Jonathan's daughter is a witch and attending Hogwarts as of this year. How does young May experience post-GoF time stuck between two worlds?
1. An energetic young lady and a stubborn f...

Chapter 1 - An energetic young lady and a stubborn father

May Stewart was a bundle of energy. This was a widely acknowledged fact. She liked to run, swim, ride horses, climb trees, have fights with the boys from the neighbourhood, and more than anything else, she would have loved to have a huge, wild dog. She didn't, of course. Not even a small, boring one. They didn't have any pets apart from a tiny, pathetic guinea pig that contented itself with squealing once every half hour, but which certainly wasn't up to being chased around the house by May. This was a major problem, since, as previously mentioned, young Miss Stewart was a very energetic person who needed to chase someone around the house every now and then. She had attempted to do this with her sisters instead, but both Jessica and Angela had squealed so loudly, much like the guinea pig in fact, that her mother had stormed up from the kitchen in no time and used this opportunity to exercise her favourite hobby: yelling at May.

May snorted and absently turned a page of her French schoolbook. Je crie, tu cries, elle crie. Mum always looked so ridiculous when she was yelling at her, with her hair falling out the sides of her tight bun, her carefully applied makeup mixing with an angry violet tinge, and of course that marvellous little blue vein popping out on her forehead, just above her left eyebrow. Yes, May had had many opportunities to study her mother in this enraged state, for it seemed that no matter what she did, it upset her parents. When one day she had picked a fight with the boy next door (who was incredibly boring, but hey, he was a boy; at least he didn't play with dolls or spend his afternoons making plans for his wedding - honestly), both his and her parents had nearly suffered a heart attack; when she had climbed a tree in the park, her mother's voice had reached a yet unexplored octave that had made May scramble down by herself so as to shut her up... even when she took two steps at once at home and pounded down the stairs, either one of her stuck-up sisters or her father called out for her to keep quiet! How boring they all were! She had become so desperate with all the energy inside herself threatening to burst out that she just randomly jumped around her room at times, but even that sometimes caused an angry Jessica to burst in with a sour face, hissing that she 'needed to study'.

At first, May had amused herself with upsetting them on purpose, but her mother had soon discovered the most cunning ways of punishing her. Going to the hairdresser's was among these things. May hated the hairdresser's more than anything else. How she would have loved to have a wild mane of hair, flowing around her whenever she jumped up and down, which, it cannot be said too often, she enjoyed doing rather frequently. But instead, her dark brown hair was cut neatly, came down to just below her chin, was parted exactly in the middle, and it was FLAT. How she hated looking like this. It wasn't her! She tried to even out this appearance by choosing the most adventurous combinations of clothes every morning, but that was pointless since almost everything was in the same annoying style and everything fitted perfectly with everything else; and besides, her mother checked over her appearance anyway before she went to school. Both her parents were very careful about her appearance, as they were about everything concerning the impression they made on others. They always seemed to try and make her look as dignified as possible, seemingly not having understood that "May" and "dignified" was an outright paradox.

May groaned and shut her book with a slam, ignored the almost instant complaint from behind the wall, and stared out the window. It was still summer, but there was something heavy in the air that made it clear September was coming. Usually May didn't care about the weather; it never affected her mood, which was always very lively. This time, however, she dreaded the arrival of September, because it meant the beginning of a school year... at a school she would not be going to!

The excitement she had felt learning about this school, that she would be going to a place where nobody was bound to be boring because they all made odd things happen like she did, and that there was actually an official explanation for the things she did - this excitement had ebbed away almost instantly when her father had recovered from his initial shock and told her that she was not going as long as he lived.

And as annoying as he was, her father's death was not something May wished for. That meant she had lost. She had lost this exciting new world that had opened up to her for only a few hours, a world that had seemed so promising... she would go back to being normal again, excuse me, pretending to be normal, playing the sweet little girl at her father's side at the rare occasions that he showed her off in public.

Yes, the public. Why could she not have had a normal Dad? Why?! Did he have to be the most famous man in Britain? May looked around her room listlessly, for once not feeling a sudden urge to jump around it. And that was a first.

***

"Mr Fudge..." Masses of inexpertly dyed blond hair hung into the room. A head followed slowly, squeezing itself into the small space between the door and the wall. An anxious face sat in the middle of this head, anxious from its small, round eyes down to its tiny, pointed nose and equally tiny mouth, which was hardly visible now with its lips pressed together in what looked like a furious attempt not to wail. The small, round eyes fixed themselves on the man in the middle of the room, who was sitting in his chair, his elbows on the table, his head in his hands. The eyes widened and watered.

"Mr Fudge...", repeated the small mouth. Somewhere behind the door, a hand rose and knocked ever so slightly.

Fudge's head shot up as if he had been pulled out of a nightmare; the head shot back outside, only to move back inside after a few seconds, even more cautiously than before.

The Minister was not a pretty sight. His hair stood up in all directions, his mouth was trembling, and there were dark, dark rings under his eyes. He stared heavily at the tiny head hanging in his door. "What is it, Miss Hollyfeathers?" he whispered rather than spoke, and he cleared his throat.

Miss Hollyfeathers swallowed and blinked the water out of her eyes. "I'm so sorry to disturb you, Minister." She had no idea how to go on and bit her lip. The Minister had never looked this terrible. She knew where this came from, of course... and knowing that, she also knew that her information would not exactly improve his mood. "Mr Moody just came back, Sir..."

"Tell him I'm not here." Fudge sank back in his chair weakly. "Tell everyone I'm not here."

"He's already gone, Sir. He just wanted to inform you. You know, about what happened this morning..." Her voice had become squeaky, and she swallowed again. Fudge stared into space, and for a few seconds Miss Hollyfeather contemplated whether he had forgotten about this morning; but Fudge sighed heavily after a few minutes. She read his next word rather than hearing it.

"Who?"

She sniffed, once again finding herself unable to inflict any pain on his poor soul. He had so much to endure already. Yet, she had to say it... "The Ruthertons. They've disappeared."

Fudge breathed so heavily that she wondered whether his lungs were still intact. He waved his hand and she quickly drew back, closing the door with a small sigh of relief.

Mr Fudge was a good man. She had never been able to blame him for anything that he did. And supporting him in every way possible, she also defended him in front of her friends, who could not understand that he was still publicly denying the connection between all these goings-on of the last two weeks and You-Know-Who.

A shudder ran down her spine. She didn't know if that was true. All she knew was that Cornelius Fudge was always right, and that he had his reasons. He didn't want to spread panic. But all these people running to him, trying to convince him to "take certain measures before it's too late" - none of them knew how difficult Cornelius' position was! (She privately called him by his first name, although they kept a respectful distance at all times.)

Just as tiny Miss Hollyfeather was sitting on her chair musing, an owl flew into her office, and recognizing the seal on the letter, she stiffened. Hogwarts. Right on cue.

That madman Dumbledore. He was the main reason for Cornelius' sleepless nights, as she was sure he had. Kept badgering him about choosing his side, taking a stand in the world, taking necessary precautions, acting for the good of the people... she snorted. That was exactly what the Minister was doing; why didn't that old nutcase leave him alone?

She took the letter and sent the owl away, as it was normal here - any letter would have to go to the Minister before replying, and since he was such a busy man, that usually took a while. However, she read them before.

__

Dear Cornelius,

I am writing to you with an unusual demand (even for these days). 

I will make it short, as I know that we are both rather busy at the 

moment. I know that you entertain contacts with the Muggle 

Prime Minister, Mr Jonathan Stewart. It has turned out that his

daughter is a witch and has been on the Hogwarts list ever since 

her birth.

Her acceptance letter, however, has not been answered, and I 

know from reliable sources that it is her father who forbids her 

to go. Cornelius, I would like to ask you to talk to him. You are 

his only connection to the wizarding world, and, as I hope, trusted 

by him to a certain extent. It would be a pity if this talented and, 

I believe, rather interesting young lady were deprived of a magical 

education because of a misunderstanding.

Thank you in advance. 

I know this takes up some of your precious time.

Albus


	2. Leaving No 10

Chapter 2 – Leaving No. 10

"Preposterous." 

May drifted slowly back into consciousness. Downstairs, voices were talking very softly.

"Just consider it for a moment."

"No, Minister."

May slowly opened her eyes, expecting the daylight to stream in through her window, but it was dark. It must be the middle of the night. What are they on about? She rolled onto the side, pressing her ear closer to the pillow. Ever since the day Jessica and Angela had started meeting in the kitchen for little, secret talks about boys, and had shut out May deliberately, she was able to hear every sound down there if she wanted to. She had never understood why; she had never asked herself either, all questions washed away by the delight of having so much information to blackmail her sisters with. She could guess now, of course.

"But, Mr. Stewart..."

"Minister, I said no. If you need an even clearer response than that, there is no way in hell that is ever going to happen. Not in my house."

May frowned. Dad did have meetings at night with his Ministers from time to time, but rarely were they in the house; and rarely had she heard her father sound so exasperated. She winced, hoping that there was no major crisis in the country going on, because that always made him morph from an already cross man to an outright monster. And besides, as much as she hated to admit it, she was beginning to be influenced by him. She actually started worrying about the people. Blergh. That must be what growing up felt like.

"Mr. Stewart, it's all inside of her. It will come out sooner or later anyway. Best she learns to control it now."

May stared at her old teddy bear, sitting on the shelf in front of her bed, who stared back. Who _was_ this guy? And what were they talking about? Was it possible...

"Mr. Fudge." Her father's voice had begun to quaver, yet she was sure only she could hear that. "With all due respect for your kind and so on. My daughter does not belong to you. She is not a... a..."

"Witch?" the other one offered quietly, and May heard her father gasp at the same time as she did. So they _were _talking about her! That man called Fudge must be one of them, a wizard! Excitedly, she sat up, but instantly threw herself back on the bed and put her head back onto her pillow so as not to miss a single word.

__

Please, Daddy, let me go... come on now...

"I cannot afford it. Not in my position." Yes! He had begun to justify himself. Always a good sign. Yawn on the phrase though. Heard that one too often.

"I understand that." Oh, God, he really understood it. Was she wishing to tumble from one nightmare into the other? But, oh well, if that Minister guy was really as boring as her father, she supposed she could still abracadabra him away or something.

As soon as her father would actually let her go of course!!

"Look, Mr. Stewart, there's really nothing we can do about this. May's name has been on the Hogwarts rolls ever since her birth. She has some potential, it seems." May could almost feel the shudder run down her Dad's spine at those words. "If you deprive her of a magical education, she might try and figure it all out by herself." Oh you bet your oily voice that I will. "Please, Mr. Stewart. Let her go. She's not allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts grounds until she's 16." Really?! DAMN! "She'll learn to handle her magic responsibly."

Her father snorted, and she couldn't blame him. _Responsibly. _Who did that oily guy think he was, some holy apostle? Oh well. It did sound like he was slowly convincing Dad. And that was the most important thing!

"But if anyone finds out..." She could hardly make out the whispered words, and gritted her teeth. To hell with your reputation, Dad... I'll figure it all out by myself if I have to (even if I have no bloody clue how to) and believe me, I'll be giving you a hard time...

As though he had heard her mental tirade, he sighed. "Alright. I'll let her go to this... Hogwarts... thing."

YEAH!!

"But if she ever behaves conspicuously around here, or gets herself in the paper for I-don't-know-what-you-people-are-up-to..." He was trying to sound aggressive, but his voice had a weary, resigned edge to it. She didn't care. She was going!

"I'll be sure to talk to your daughter personally." Oh, _no_. "Everything will be alright." Chairs were moved, they were obviously standing up. "Thank you, Mr. Stewart." Her Dad only grunted in reply. May was biting her pillow hard so as not to scream in delight.

***

She would have known that something was different anyway. Even if she hadn't listened in last night, she would have remarked her Dad's more-than-usual stiff attitude the next morning, her Mum's wary look, the for once not snapped demand that she quit whatever mischief she had been plotting and come down to breakfast.

However, May thought as she slid down the banisters, her senses where probably somewhat heightened now that she knew. She could see Mum's furtive look at her, the quick turn back to the stove, Dad's similar glances over his newspaper every now and then, Jessica's and Angela's open stares that differed slightly from the usual superior (or, in case she had been playing a prank on them, which was 80% of the time) sulky look they gave their little sister. May sniggered to herself. So the ladies had been informed. Yet she hadn't heard any squealing this morning??

She settled down on her chair, silently for once, and waited for Mum to bring the bacon and eggs. Did she just imagine it or did she get more than usual? Oh, yeah, I could always magic Mum's hair into another colour... although she wasn't sure at all what she could do, she was sure that her Mum and her sisters had a very lively imagination concerning that. She suppressed another broad grin, looking at each one of them closely. They were all avoiding to look at her. Fine, if they wanted to play the game, she could be silent. Torture them even more, mwahaha.

Mr. Stewart cleared his throat, breaking the silence. May was slightly disappointed, since she had silently been putting bets on who would be the first with a nervous breakdown; but then again, she knew from experience that this announced A Declaration. Something she usually loathed, of course. But this time...!!

"May." Her father fixed her in what he probably thought was a stern attitude. She looked at him innocently, shoving bacon and eggs into her mouth, afraid that she might not be able to eat as soon as she was lying on the floor screaming with laughter. Very reasonable argumentation, she found. "Yes, Dad?" She hadn't been able to resist the temptation to speak with her mouth full of food. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Mum flinch, but kept her look fixed on her father.

He looked down on the table for a moment, at his untouched plate, then back up at her. "I have decided that it would be best for all parties if you... went to that, that school in September."

May didn't have to act a lot – she just put all the suppressed joy and hilarity she had felt for a few hours (for, naturally, she hadn't slept for a single minute) into her eyes, making them bulge out with fake surprise. "Really??" She grinned broadly, finally having an official reason to. Angela and Jessica exchanged a short glance. May's grin grew wider. "Why?" she couldn't refrain from asking.

Her father's eyes narrowed. It was clear that this was costing him quite a lot of self control. "Because, well, that way you'll learn how to, er. Control it." He tried taking a sip of his coffee and coughed, then stared at her again. "I want the following to be very clear, young lady. I will not allow any of that rubbish inside my house or anywhere in public where it could be seen. You will do... these things... only inside of the school. At any rate you're not allowed to use them here anyway, that would mean instant expulsion." May could see a nasty grin spread itself over Jessica's face. Oh, you'd just love to see me expelled, wouldn't you, you old cow? However, she couldn't help feeling a bit uncomfortable – her sisters were sure to give her a hard time during holidays. But she was not going to let anything come between her and... what was it called? _Hogwarts._

She looked her Dad firmly in the eye. "I promise, Dad." Her mother looked at her closely. She had never been able to wring the word out of May, not with its honest meaning behind it, yet she seemed to sense that May was serious about this. What an odd feeling indeed, being serious about something.

***

"Stop fidgeting, May." Mildred Stewart buttoned up her daughter's jacket, stepped back and eyed her from head to toe. May rolled her eyes when she made that all-too familiar tutting noise and started at her again, tugging at her sleeves and collar until everything seemed quite perfect.

Correction: Until May looked like an old flounder! Gaahh! "Mum, let go", she whined, trying not to sound too aggressive. Mum seemed to pick up on even the slightest indication of a rebellious tone these days, and the punishments were usually quite tedious. Cleaning up her closet, for instance. Or vacuuming under the bed. May thought that Mum probably wanted to enjoy her reign of terror as long as possible before she left.

Which was today.

YAY.

Her Mum, ignoring the complaint, smoothed May's hair until it looked like someone had just emptied a bucket of water over her head, and stepped back again. May groaned inwardly and tried to keep a straight face. She didn't know why, but it would feel weird leaving while Mum was cross with her, so during the last week she had been trying the best humanly possible to not become annoyed, and above all, to not annoy Mum. Well, that was easy. Just stand still like some ridiculous Barbie doll and let her fix you up until you look like a pathetic old–

"Want you to look quite neat, don't we?" Her Mum muttered distractly, staring at May's hair. May calmly breathed in and out. Frankly, she didn't see the point of making her look 'neat'; well she never had, but especially couldn't in this case. She was going to that wizarding place, who would _care_ what she looked like? They would probably be riding on brooms and all wear pointy hats!

"Now, that Minister is sending someone to pick you up today." Mum grabbed her arms, fixing her sternly, and May suppressed another groan. "I know, Mum." She did, indeed. Her mother had explained the day's proceedings about twenty times to her this morning – and that wasn't counting all of last week. She couldn't help getting the slight suspicion that Mum wasn't directing these words at her, but at herself, so as to find a bit of reassurance. "The person the Minister sends will get you to that place where you pick up your books and..." Until this part, it was always easy. Mum had "the Minister" and schoolbooks to refer to, things that belonged in her normal world. Then, however... "and your, your other things." 

May pressed her teeth together tightly. Don't laugh, don't laugh, don't laugh... "Yes, Mum."

"Now, I want you to behave quite reasonably and..." Course, _this_ part wasn't funny anymore. The lecture always droned on for at least five minutes. While Mum went over all the details again, how she was going to sleep in that Ministry building tonight and let that person bring her to the train tomorrow because they, her parents, couldn't possibly risk showing up there, famous that they were, blah blah blah, May concentrated on breathing and let her mind wander off to the place she would be going to - well, the imagination she had of it. With an occasional "yes, Mum", she was quite fine.

The doorbell. Finally! Suddenly not caring about anything anymore, she wriggled free and, ignoring the exasperated sigh behind her, pounded down the staircase. She met her father in the hallway, whose hesitant drag to the door –something she had never seen on him before– indicated that it might be the portal to hell. May darted past him and pulled the door open.

Bloody hell.

__

This was a WITCH?!

***


End file.
